


His Angel

by Baconya



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, Flashbacks, Lots of drama, M/M, Mink's Good End, i'm (not) sorry, just brace yourself, this is my first fic idk how to tag things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baconya/pseuds/Baconya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't know why, so many years later, the Gods sent him his savior. That blue haired angel that saved him from his own doom. But they did.<br/>And now the Gods wanted to yank his angel away from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyes/gifts).



He'd never cried so much since he was a kid.

He remembered how his chest felt when he saw all the trees burning, the houses falling down. He remembered the feeling of despair that crushed his throat, the heat that burned his lungs. It was hell. He was in the living hell and he didn't know why.

He knew, though, who those screams belonged to. He recognized his mother's and his father's voices calling for their children. He could hear his sister yelling desperately for help. He could hear himself gasping and grunting and trying to free himself from those hideous white-leathered hands. It seemed that even the birds and the animals were trying to escape that scene.

It'd been when it was all over that he cried. When he was thrown into that dark cell, covered in blood and ashes, ripped off of his tribe, his family. The taste of tears on his tongue made him sick. It was that disgusting taste of weakness, fear, helplessness, the taste of _death_. The death of those whom he didn't help, whom he watched die with those very eyes, right in front of him.

And while he cried, he heard others. In the dark, he could hear other people crying, people that once more he could identify by their voices. They cried just like he did. They were helpless just like he was. All those people caged in those dark metal boxes, waiting for what was yet to come. And all of them cried, mourned for their losses and their destroyed lives and shattered futures.

When the creatures dressed all in white came, his eyes, as well as his soul, were dry. He felt dead, he felt empty, his boiling hatred all that was left within. The white creatures — those things that were everything but human beings with those cold, calculating eyes —, they came for him and the others every day, making their lives hell every single day. But not him, nor anyone would give those monsters what they wanted. Ever.

And so, the monsters sucked his soul little by little away from him, leaving nothing but an empty shell moved by despair and thirst for revenge.

He didn't know why, so many years later, the Gods sent him his savior. That blue haired angel that saved him from his own doom. But they did.

And now the Gods wanted to yank his angel away from him.

When Aoba fell sick, the both of them didn’t think it was anything serious. Maybe a cold, a flu at worst. But as Aoba got sicker and sicker everyday, Mink started to feel concerned. In no time, every single doctor in town had heard of Aoba — that young man whose life was threatened by a rare disease, for which there was no cure. Aoba didn’t have much time left. The doctors gave him only a few days.

And today was his last.

Mink woke up to Aoba breathlessly screaming his name. When he rap up to him, he saw Aoba crying, trying to seat himself on the bed with trembling limbs. His body shook with every choked sob that escaped his throat, his skin covered in sweat. Mink was quick to hold his small, pale hands between his own bigger ones, squeezing the lightly as to secure Aoba that he was there.

“Shh,” he whispered, kneeling beside Aoba’s bed. “I’m here.”

Aoba held his hand back, keeping them tightly between his fingers, or as tightly as he could manage. He looked at Mink straight in the eye, as though to make sure that it was really him. “D-Don’t,” he breathed, his voice cracked, “Don’t leave me alone.”

Mink frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “How do you feel?” He knew better than to ask Aobaif he was okay. He knew he wasn’t. None of them was.

“My chest h-hurts,” Aoba whispered, and started crying all over again, unintencionally carving his nails on the flash of Mink’s hands. “I’m scared, Mink. I’m so scared.”

Mink pulled him in for a hug and kissed Aoba’s head gingerly. Aoba rested his chin on top of Mink’s shoulder and sniffled while Mink combed his beautiful blue strands delicately. Even though Aoba was so sensitive in his hair, he never complained when Mink did that, or braided his hair. He said that he enjoyed it even — Mink’s touch always appeased him.

“Where were you?” Aoba asked suddenly. “Y-You weren’t here when I woke up.”

“I fell asleep on the couch.”

“Hm.” Mink didn’t know if that had been a sound of understanding or one of pain. He felt afraid to ask.

Then Aoba started to lightly push him, and Mink let go, helping his dear Aoba to lay on the bed once again. When lied down, Aoba breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, shakily, and Mink could only watch him, wishing that he was able to somehow ease his loved one’s pain. Aoba’s eyes were closed, but Mink could see how his eyelids wavered, as if watching a feverish dream.

“Mink,” Aoba called, his voice so low it was hard to be heard. “I’m sorry.” Mink remained silent, trying to understand what Aoba meant with that, and the blue haired one cracked a small smile. “I’ve been bothering you for so long and now I’ll be leaving you—” Aoba gasped, and his face contorted into a grimace. He bit his bottom lip, trying to refrain himself from crying again. “—Just like that…”

Mink’s throat tightened, his heart heavy in his chest. Aoba was in such evident pain he felt guilty just for watching. But there was nothing he could do to ease him. There was nothing, _nothing_ , and Mink felt just as powerless as before. He didn’t understand why Aoba — the sweet cheerful Aoba who taught him how to be alive again, the one person who didn’t give up on him, the angel who brought back his happiness —, why must be Aoba the one to be punished like that? Why didn’t the Gods just punish Mink, and Mink alone, instead of taking that wonderful angel away from him? It was unfair, so unfair, just plain cruelty. It was Aoba who should have lived a long, peaceful life. Not Mink…

Slowly, Aoba opened his eyes once again, just in time to see Mink getting up to his feet. “W-Where are you going?!” he panicked. He tried to sit up again, but Mink stopped him before he could. Aoba grabbed Mink’s forearm and stared at him with eyes that begged Mink not to go. “S-Stay here with me,” he pleaded, feeling difficult to breathe. His eyes were wide and red, tears pooling on its corners to slowly slide down onto his cheeks. “D-Don’t, don’t leave me alone… _Please_ , Mink.”

“I’m going to bring you some water,” Mink sighed. “It will calm you down. I’ll be right back.”

“N-No”, Aoba chocked out, bringing his hand to clutch his sweaty shirt as if he would grip his failing heart. “I don’t want to be alone,” his voice was desperate, “Not even for a second.”

Mink could see in his face how helpless he felt, he could see in his eyes the growing fear that ate at him every moment. And so he decided to stay. He didn’t want Aoba to suffer even more.

Sighing, Mink seated on the border of the bed, observing how Aoba’s features immediately softened. “Thank you,” Aoba murmured, and adjusted himself on the bed. “You want to make me relaxed?”

“Yes.”

“Then talk to me.” He smiled weakly. “Tell me a story. You’re good at that.” He looked like a child who wanted to be read a story before bed.

“Okay.” Mink gazed away as he wondered what story he should tell. He didn't know what to talk about. At all. Mink had never been the one good with words; that was Aoba's thing. He had to say something, though, anything. And so Mink decided to tell Aoba about the days he was the happiest.

He told Aoba about how the warmth of the sun felt against his skin when they were both sunbathing on the backyard. Those were the days right after the end of winter, the first spring days when the sun seemed brighter, hotter, and even more beautiful. The days when Aoba woke up ridiculously early and insisted he and Mink went outside just to watch it rise. They would lay together on the hammock, swinging lightly, curled up against one another as the sunlight slowly shone upon their bodies. Mink had never said how much he loved those sweet, peaceful moments, how much he loved the way Aoba sighed in contempt everytime curled his toes, now warmed by the sun.

He told Aoba about the times when Mink would suddenly wake up from a nightmare in the middle of the night, breathing heavily and sweating, and how his dear, dear Aoba would hold his hand and smile at him, saying no word. He would just look Mink in the eye, hazel orbes the sweetest they'd ever been, and Mink's breathing would get back to normal, fear abandoning his heart. Aoba was there with him. Things were okay. He was okay.

And he told him about the rare occasions when Aoba thought Mink wasn't looking. Those times when Aoba started dancing alone to a song only he could listen. Sometimes he singsonged the melody, shaking his hips with closed eyes and a goofy grin on the face. It was difficult for Mink to stop himself from smiling at the sight. Even more difficult when Aoba caught him watching, his face so red from embarassment Mink had to kiss every single inch of it.

He also told Aoba about the afternoons they wasted on the veranda, Mink calmly braiding the soft blue strands of Aoba’s beautiful hair. When Aoba wasn’t silent, either lost in thought or just appreciating Mink’s soft, yet firm touches, he was always talking, telling Mink about how he’d spent the day, or how ridiculous that program he had heard on the radio had been. And when Mink finished decorating Aoba’s hair, he would just stay silent and Aoba would turn to look at him, the sweetest of smiles curling up his pink lips. And Mink would always catch himself wondering how could that person, the most important person of his life, be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

The moment he treasured the most, though, happened when Mink thought he'd lost Aoba. The blue haired male had left and just didn't come back for hours. When Mink finally found him, after desperately looking for him everywhere, he snapped, yelling at Aoba to never get out of his sight again. He couldn't handle loosing him. It was unbearable just to think of it, a world without his dear Aoba. Aoba who had hugged Mink afterwards, telling Mink in a soft voice that he wouldn't ever, ever leave him. It'd been the moment when Aoba told Mink he loved him so, so much. And Mink loved him back, he loved Aoba so much it was almost painful. Aoba was his angel, he'd said, embracing him. He was his precious angel who had given Mink a second chance, who had taught him how to live again, who had given him happiness and who forgave him after all disgraceful things Mink had done. And they stayed like that, in each other's arms, for a long time.

But as Mink remembers that time, Aoba is no longer breathing. His chest has stopped rising and now it just stays still. His face, though, is peaceful, eyes closed and lips half-parted, looking like he is just sleeping. With a trembling hand, Mink touches the angel’s face, feeling the softness of his now cold skin. He tries calling his name, but all that leaves his throat is a shaky breath as he stops himself from crying. He slowly inches closer to Aoba and kisses his head longinly, hoping that somehow his love would be carved into his beloved’s soul.

Mink tries to get up, but his legs are weak, _he_ is weak, and he just falls to his knees, burying his face on the sheets and screaming against them. His lungs burn, his heart aches as if being teared apart, his eyes stinging from the unstopping tears that wet his face. Once again, he’s lost everything. Once again, he’d been uncapable to protect who he loved. He is useless, he is a disgrace, he is lonely, _oh so lonely_ … Why did Aoba have to go? Why not _him_ , why not Mink?!

He is lost, so lost, he needs Aoba back. Why did he have to go, why, why, why, _why_ … All he can do is cry, and cry, and cry, but nothing of this will bring him back, nothing of this will make the pain any better… Aoba, his loved Aoba is gone. And he’ll never come back. He’ll never smile again, he’ll never have his cheeks painted red again from that soft laugh he gave everytime he did something silly. Mink will never look at his eyes and feel safe again, he will never hold his warm hand again.

And he feels darkness looming over him once more.

And he doesn’t know what to do.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (the change in the end from past to present was intentional)
> 
> SOOOOOOOOOO this came up after MinAo's Chiral Night 2.0 dive into DMMd when me and theosexual were like "YOOOOOOOOOOO, WHAT IF WE KILLED AOBA?" and  
> here we are  
> We're trash <3  
> Hope I made someone cry?? Idk I kinda cried while thinking of this and my heart hurt when I was writing, but... *sigh*  
> wELP, just hope you enjoyed <3 <3 <3
> 
> Please leave feedback! This is my first fanfic in English (I'm Brazilian and speak Portuguese) and I'm really nervous about it. If you see any mistakes, please feel more than free to correct me! 
> 
> (to theosexual: hah, I told you I could do it on time  
> (uwu)  
> 」|」  
> / | )


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